With Chaos
by Hex Dynasty
Summary: Tonight is my 16th birthday and presents and cake are the least of my concerns. I have to get off of this island. Out there, somewhere, is something that I've been kept from my entire life. I'm leaving Saga tonight, and I'm going to see Pokemon. *OC story
1. Goodbye Saga

**{author's notes: This is Hex's first story... it may be extremely choppy, and since Hex doesn't have any editors, full of errors. Feel free to criticize to your heart's content. ^_^}  
**Also, Hex doesn't own Pokemon! She's just loved it since she was five.**  
**

**Chapter 1, Goodbye Saga**

I crossed the final item off my list. Everything was stashed neatly beneath my bed, tucked into a small daypack I took from my mother's collection of bags. Normally I would have just used my schoolbag, but it was too bulky and noticeable. I needed this one, lightweight and inconspicuous.

I knew my father would be coming to call me down for dinner soon, so I needed to appear normal. I sat down in the over-sized executive chair that blended nicely with the rest of the over-sized furniture in my room. I pretended to study one of the many textbooks scattered across my unnecessarily huge mahogany, credenza-like desk.

Just as expected, my father stepped into my room. "Cyril," he said in his typical monotone voice, "It's time for dinner."

I shrugged. "I'll just eat in here." I said not looking up from my book. I knew he wouldn't allow it. He never did, but that never stopped me from asking before, and now is exactly the time I need to do it again. It's only hard to act normal when you need too.

"You are coming down to eat with your family." His voice steadily grew colder. "It is your sixteenth birthday. You will act proper so you do not embarrass us in front of the guests."

I took some fake notes and turned the page. Birthdays are so overrated. Why should we celebrate getting older? It's just another year closer to death. "I'm not going down there. I have finals coming up soon." I smiled secretly as my father stormed out of my room. He would send butlers to "escort" me to the dining room where I would eat some "gourmet" meal cooked by 'The best chefs Saga has to offer.' After dinner I would receive gifts from people I'd never even seen before and listen to my mother talk about when I was just a baby. The guests would leave little by little and the maids would begin cleaning. My parents would head to their room to discuss the girls that they found nice enough to be my future wife. Bleh. Everything would go as planned. Maybe.

The butlers did escort me to dinner. I did eat that gourmet meal. I did receive gifts from multitudes of people whom I had never met and would probably never meet again. My mother did talk about when I was a baby. The guests did leave. The maids did start cleaning. But my parents didn't go to their room. They stayed sitting on the classy yet uncomfortable sofa in the center of the den.

The atmosphere was too thick for me. I just knew they were going to bring up some unimportant thing and blow it out of proportion just like every other time they sat so tense-like with that look on their faces. It would probably be about my grades. I do make good grades, but those business management classes were starting to get hectic.

My mother smiled at me and gestured toward one of the seats fornenst the sofa. I sat warily. "Cyril, you're sixteen now," she said softly. "I thought you would enjoy some time alone, so I took the liberty of excusing most of the maids for the night. Your father and I will be leaving the house to you 'til tomorrow."

What? I'm going to be virtually alone tonight? It took almost every ounce of my self control to keep from celebrating. I nodded curtly. This would benefit my plan greatly.

"Your mother was forthright in her decision. She believed it would please you, young master." My personal butler, Samuel, said.

My father grunted. It seemed he didn't like the idea of me staying alone tonight. I bet he was thinking of all the trouble I could get myself into while they were gone. I bet he was. but even if he was, he could never guess what I was really going to do. Not in a million years. My mother seemed happy enough though. She would probably be spending the night in a nice hotel with open air baths and spa treatments. "If you need anything just ring. We'll send someone to take care of you. Samuel, give him the number to the hotel."

Samuel slipped a card on the table to my right and bowed. "Have a nice night." he said with a smile that set me on edge, then walked away in that stiff manner all butlers did and gathered my parents luggage. Without another word they left

And then there was one. Well, more like four, but maids don't count. All they do is clean the house and wash laundry. I bound up the stairs to my room. The daypack was just as I had left it, but I wanted to double check all of my supplies. I sat the bag on my bed and went back to lock my door. I tugged on the knob to make sure it was secured. Everything was perfect. I dumped the contents onto my bed and sorted it out. I had everything...except cash. It was something that had just popped into my head. I repacked everything and shoved the bag back where I'd found it. Quickly I donned a jacket with some deep pockets and headed to my parent's room.

I knew of a few places around the room where my parents stashed away money for no real reason. There were several obvious places, a few questionable places, and some just plain weird. I set out for the questionable places first. Toiletries. My mother has a collection of stylized soaps that have been hollowed out. She sticks her cash in there frequently, so I just took a bit from each bar and headed to the next spot, I took some from my father's management books, a bit more from the waterproofed jar hidden in the toilet tank, and regrettably, my pockets were full.

I checked the hall before making my stealthy escape. There was still no sign of the maids. I dashed through the halls as I made my way back to my room. My heart was beating so hard I felt it in my throat. The feeling was splendiferous! Yes, that is a real word. A really really awesome real word.

My escape from this awful place was near. I burst into my room, slamming the door in my excitement. I barely remembered the lock. It took only seconds to empty my pockets onto the bed. I quickly gathered the money into wads and clipped them together. It was a tight fit, but I managed to stuff it all into one of the empty pockets of the daypack.

It seemed I was completely set. I quietly left my room. It was still too early to head to the harbor, so I decided to waste time with a hot cup of rooibos tea. It wasn't hard to find the kitchen, but since I'd never actually been there I didn't know where anything was. I searched fruitlessly through the cabinets for a few minutes before giving up. I'd just substitute the tea for some water. That is, if I can find where they keep the cups. What is this? In my own house, I can't find a single thing. It's the life of a spoiled boy.

I flopped onto the cold marble floor. I was thoroughly embarrassed. My now dry throat cursed at me. I guess my mouth decided to go dry when the adrenalin died off. Well, now I had two choices. I could continue being thirsty, or I could drink straight from the faucet. Both choices were unbearable. My body said drink, but my pride said don't. It took less than a second for my body to beat my pride into a bloody pulp. I got up and walked toward the sink. As long as no one saw me I'd be fine.

The water flowing from the faucet was ice cold. I drank my fill and continued to let the cold water cascade over my lips. It tasted so much better straight from the tap! I took a mental note of the difference before turning off the water and heading back to my room. I decided that it would be a good idea to take a nap before setting out on my adventure.

My alarm went off just after midnight. I slid out of bed and into some durable clothes. Everything was in order. I briefly scanned my notes to make sure I could make it to the harbor in time to catch the next trade ship out. I only had eleven minutes. I snatched up my day pack and notebook and raced out of my room. After a short detour to the den so I could drop the notebook off in the fireplace, I was out the door and sprinting to the harbor.

There were only two ships docked when I arrived. I didn't spend any time deciding which to get on. I just hopped the nearest and hid myself among some smelly ropes and barrels.

Goodbye Saga!

**{You made it to the end of this first section! Congratulations. Any reviews are appreciated. Any criticism will be taken to heart and used to improve this story and any other stories I may write.}  
**


	2. Here in Slateport

**Chapter 2, Here in Slateport**

It was a good thing I didn't waste time getting onto the ship. Shortly after I had situated myself into a comfortable position I heard voices and footsteps getting close. The adrenaline I had felt earlier that night came rushing back.

The voices weren't quite close enough for me to be able to hear their words clearly through the wall. I tried to creep closer so I could hear, but as I began scooting around, the engine started and the floor lurched. It was a sickening feeling. I don't remember cruise ships lurching that way, but of course, this was no cruise ship.

I crawled back to my comfy corner and put my head between my knees as I tried to cure my sudden seasickness. I should have packed some ginger tea! Since I didn't have any ginger tea I would have to do what I could. If I close my eyes, I may feel better. I laid on my back and closed my eyes. It was probably the best thing I could have done. Falling asleep in that "gently" rocking ship didn't take five minutes.

Everything was still when I awoke. The ship was hardly rocking, did that mean we had docked somewhere? I got up slowly. If I listened closely I could hear the faint sounds of the ocean. I pressed my ear against the nearest wall. There were no voices or footsteps.

I looked around the small room in which I hid during the journey. It seemed more roomy in there. Maybe I had just gotten used to being confined to the small area, but something was different.

I ran out of the room and onto the deck. The sun was blazing high in the sky, white bird Pokemon, Wingull?, were flying around, and the harbor was brimming with people. A man walking onto the ship saw me and slowly made his way to where I was standing.

"Hey Sleeping Beauty." he said in a playful way. "We thought you were going to sleep forever! Me and some other guys noticed you sneaking on board last night, but you didn't wake up until now. We were kinda worried."

He wasn't mad about me stowing away on his ship? "I-I'm sorry about, uh, hiding..." I bowed slightly. He smiled. It was a creepy kind of smile. The kind you would expect to see on the face of a psycho murder just before you got stabbed.

"'Naw kid, it's alright. The cap'n laughed when I told him there was a stowaway from Saga." I nodded and started to walk passed the tall sailor so I could get away from the ship. "Come back and see me sometime, Cutie." He was a freak! I took off running under a rickety old sign that said "Slateport City. The port where people and Pokemon cross paths."

It felt so good to run. After being crammed in my corner for at least twelve hours, stretching my legs was like being reborn. It was difficult avoiding the people who crowded the streets, but somehow I managed. I only recall bumping into three people. None of the three screamed at me so I assume I was forgiven.

Running around aimlessly is the best way to get lost. In only ten minutes I had wondered into the most crowded shopping area I had ever seen, almost died of hunger, and stepped into some scary black goo that was splattered across the sidewalk. Thank you excited frenzy for causing me so much trouble.

I sat on the cleanest portion of the sidewalk I could find. I had no energy left. Really, I should have been trying to find a place where I could get some food, but my legs were dying. I could hardly sit upright. Maybe I had something in my bag. I pulled the daypack off my shoulders and sat it in my lap. Its smelt terrible; like dead fish and sweat. Its odor almost made me gag. It had successfully erased my appetite.

Quickly I put my daypack back on and stood up. My legs were wobbly at first, but they seemed to have enough strength to help me walk. I didn't have much energy to spare, so I needed to find a restaurant fast. When you're in a new place and don't know where anything is, what's the fastest way to find somewhere? Ask. For. Directions. I was in another of those pride versus body ordeals... guess who won.

I was Lucky! There was someone walking down the street in my direction. I hobbled toward him. I probably looked pathetic, but it didn't matter at the moment. "Excuse me," I said trying to get his attention. The boy was about my age, but the differences in our appearance were drastic. I probably looked so small and pale and scrawny compared to him."Do you know where I could get some food?"

"Looks like you need more than food," he raised his hand to pinch his nose, "I mean 'Smells like'."

I laughed nervously, "Yeah." Oh, how my pride was hurting. I was struggling to continue standing there, but I didn't want to look weak in front of this guy. "I had some fish trouble in the harbor." It was a lie, but I couldn't tell him the truth. How would he feel if he knew I was a stowaway?

"I can imagine. What I can't imagine, though, is how you're still alive smelling like that. Why haven't the wingull picked you apart yet?"

I just shrugged. I had no energy left for talking.

"Come with me, Smelly, it's almost lunch time at Meemaw's house." He gestured for me to follow him. I did so. Well, I tried to.

Meemaw's house wasn't too far from where I was sitting before, but each minute that I walked brought me minutes closer to death. By the time we were standing on the doorstep of a cute old-english style cottage I felt dead. Why was life away from Saga so hard? I almost regret leaving.

The boy I was with opened the door and practically dragged me inside. A stout old lady greeted us as we came in.

"Welcome back, Ollie." She said warmly. "You brought a friend?" The smile she had on her face was so welcoming! It was almost exactly the opposite of the scary sailor from earlier.

**"He was starving to death on the sidewalk, so I brought him with me. Is that okay?"  
**

"It's fine sweetie! I made plenty of food." She lead us to a table where I was sat down. Within seconds a bowl filled with steaming soup was sat before me. I felt awkward being served first. At home Father was always served first, then Mother, and finally me; once everyone had their food we began eating. I waited impatiently for the other two to be served. Oliver began eating as soon as he got his food. Meemaw just walked away.

"You were starving just earlier! Eat that before it gets cold." Oliver said to me.

"But, shouldn't I wait for her to be seated?" I asked gesturing towards where the elderly woman had gone.

Oliver scoffed. "Meemaw's already eaten. She eats while she cooks." He raised his voice so the lady could hear him. "Did you eat Meemaw?" he yelled.

I heard a muffled 'yes' from another room. I guess I could eat then. I spooned a bit of soup into my mouth. The taste was fantastic! I didn't expect regular people food to taste so good. For my entire life I've lived off of gourmet crap. Even my baby formula was supposedly gourmet. Throughout the entire meal I had to refrain from shoveling my food down like a stray dog. I had three bowls of the soup before I felt sufficiently full. Even though I now feel like I was being selfish, Meemaw seemed very happy that I ate so much of her cooking.**  
**

Oliver and I sat at the table for almost an hour after eating. We didn't really say anything to each other while our food was digesting, but when Meemaw walked in and told us the we had to go take a shower now, things got awkward. Well, atleast on my side. Oliver didn't seem to think anything about it.

"Let's go," Oliver said as he pulled me from my chair. He walked into another room and brought out two towels. "We shower together to save water."

I was speechless. My mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, the very fish I currently smelled like, as I tried to find something to say.**  
**

He had to drag me up the stairs and into the bathroom since my brain had died. I wasn't capable of walking by myself in my stupefied condition. "Really, Smelly? You going to make me undress you?" Oliver said nonchalantly. He had already stripped his clothes off and was adjusting the temperature of the water. How could anyone be so calm about being naked around someone else? Forget the "someone else" part! I felt uncomfortable being naked alone! Was I really supposed to get naked while he was there?

"Hurry up and undress!" Oliver said. He had walked away from the shower and stood in front of me. He quickly pulled my shirt off of me, and began unfastening my belt. I think I passed out at this point, but I can't remember.


	3. Ransel

**Chapter 3, Ransel**

"I dunno Meemaw, he just fainted."

Was that Oliver talking?

"Yeah, but I bathed him anyway. He doesn't stink anymore." I heard a chair slide across the floor, then footsteps heading toward me. "You awake yet, Smelly?"

That name was so degrading! "I'm awake." I replied tartly.

"He's awake Meemaw!" Did he have to yell? I really wanted to punch him, but I wasn't raised to be that way. I'll just try and ignore him.

Oliver flopped down on the sofa where I was laying. He didn't even care than it was my feet he was sitting on. I tried to kick him so I could sit up, but he just made crude jokes about how it felt like I was playing with his bum and continued to sit there. Eventually I gave up. He wasn't so heavy that it hurt me, it was just a bit uncomfortable.

Meemaw didn't seem surprised to see Oliver sitting on me when she walked in. She just kinda smiled as she sat in her chair and flipped on the TV. "Oliver, I'm going out to shop for dinner. Do you need anything?" She asked as she watched the news.

"The forecast for the week is partially cloudy with temperatures in the high 80's, mild winds from the southwest, and migrating Swablu." Migrating Swablu? What does that have to do with weather? "In other news, The Poochyena have returned. Cover your trashca-" Meemaw flipped off the TV.

"What do you boys want for dinner?" She asked.

"Yeah Smelly, What should we eat?" Oliver looked toward me with a smug grin.

I hated him. His expressions were always so cocky. "I'm not a picky eater. Anything is fine." I smiled at Meemaw. Anything she cooked would taste good. "And also," I said, turning to Oliver. "My name, Is. Not. Smelly." I violently shoved Oliver off of me with some of the energy from my angry outburst.

He fell on the floor, but laughed it off like it was nothing. "Then what should I call you? You haven't exactly introduced yourself."

"I'm Cyril." I said simply. I didn't want to talk to him anymore. His face makes me mad.

Meemaw spoke up, breaking the tension. "Well, Ollie and Cyril, We'll be having tuna-stuffed tomatoes." She walked to the door and picked up a seagrass basket. "You'll come with me to carry the groceries." Oliver walked over and took the basket from Meemaw.**  
**

"Lets go, Cyril." He said my name with venom. Like it was the vilest of all curses. I rolled my eyes at him and quickly made my way to Meemaw's side. My bag wasn't far from the door so I grabbed it."Don't take that smelly thing!" Oliver said.

"I'm not taking it. I'm getting some money for a new one." I pulled out one of the wads of cash and shoved it in my pocket. I pretended not to notice Oliver's surprised gasp. A small victory for me.

Our trio made its way through the thinning crowds at the market. Was it really even a market? The banner said "Farmer's Market" but everything was outside. I was used to big indoor markets. The ones that had AC and were insectless. This was really just a street lined with stalls where people sat selling stuff, swatting flies, and chatting. Meemaw shuffled expertly through the stalls of vegetables mumbling about some overpriced, rotten carrots. Eventually we reached a stall that caught my eye, a collection of bags. I was sure there was every type of bag imaginable, and one in every colour and fabric to boot! I spent a minute scanning over everything. Out of all of them there was one that just called out to me.

"Sir!" I said to wake the drowsy keeper. He woke with a start. "Can I see that bag?" I pointed toward a black bag just behind the man, it wasn't the one I wanted, but you never pointed out the one you really want first. He handed the bag to me. I pretended to examine it closely then gave it back. I repeated the process with a few other bags before I pointed out the one I really wanted.

The man shook his head. "You can't have this one, kid. It's mine."

"I'll buy it from you!" I tried not to sound too desperate, but I really liked that bag. "2000." I offered.

He shook his head again. "10,000 or no-go."

Really? Only 10,000? I could probably get him lower though. "5000."

"10,000."

"5,500."

"8000, kid. I'm not going any lower. Ask for lower and it's back up to 10,000."

Oh yeah! I'm awesome! "Done." I said calmly as I pulled the money from my pocket. I pulled eight bills from my wad and held them out. The man grunted and took the cash. He really didn't seem happy about losing his bag, but oh well. I watched as he poured his stuff out of the bag slowly. He was doing it just to get on my nerves! The audacity of the people, jeez! He handed me the bag, and with one last, forlorn look, he turned away.

I was in a state of euphoric glee. This was the first time I had gotten something after I was told no. It felt like power. Liquid-magma-awesome-power-juice surging through my whole body. Sure I had to pay for it, but I still got it. It was mine now, and nobody could take it awa-faceplant.

How I managed to fall head first onto the street was beyond my comprehension, that is, until I heard someone laughing. I could describe him just by hearing his voice; brown hair, blue eyes, slight tan, thin yet muscular..."Oliver." I spat out dust and pebbles as I stood up. Anger evident in my flushed face. To tell the truth, Oliver didn't seem to scared, but in my mind he was quivering and whimpering. Begging for my forgiveness.

Meemaw wasn't too entertained by Oliver's actions. She whacked him on his head and grabbed his ear. "Apologize right now, Oliver!"

"But I'd be lying!" Oliver yelled as he tried to pull away from Meemaw but only ended up hurting himself.

Meemaw sighed and let Oliver go. "Let's get home." she said before walking briskly away.

I gave Oliver a rude look before jogging to catch up with the old lady. My face was a little bruised and my lip was bleeding, but I still had my bag. I couldn't stay mad for too long.

When we got Meemaw put some cream-stuff on my face. She said it would make the bruises go away, and help my cut lip heal faster. All it really did was burn like crazy.  
Oliver hung around in the den, and I stayed in the kitchen. Our unspoken goal was to see as little of each other as possible. At dinner we ate in silence, and afterwards Oliver went to his room. I rolled out the futon Meemaw gave me.**  
**

Once everyone had went off to their rooms I crawled out from under the thick duvet and went to the front door to get my old bag. This was the perfect time to transfer my stuff. I emptied the daypack onto the small coffee table in the living room and sorted through my belongings. Now that I was out of Saga a lot of the things I packed seemed useless. I put all of the useless things back into the daypack. My new bag would be practically empty, but what's the point of putting all of that needless, fish smelling junk into my beautiful new bag?

Why was it so beautiful? Was it the thick yellow and black fur exterior? Was it the primitive fang-like accessories that dangled from the side? Maybe it was the distinct electric scent that permeated the air around it. The bag was perfect. So perfect in fact, that it needed its own name. Its name would be... Ransel.

I put my old bag back in it's place by the door, and took Ransel to my futon. "You can sleep with my tonight." I told my bag. Is it awkward not feeling awkward while I was talking to a backpack? I tried not to think about it. I hugged Ransel close and fell asleep.


End file.
